Cupid's Curse
by Sable Supernova
Summary: When it comes to love, things go wrong all the time. Sometimes, we've chosen the wrong person. Sometimes, it's just at the wrong time. It could well be that the person you've promised to love isn't who you think they are. Collection of break-up one-shots and drabbles.
1. Lucissa: Trophy Wife

Written for the May Event at Hogwarts. Prompt: Trophy. Words: 102.

* * *

 **Trophy Wife**

Narcissa loved Lucius, of course she did. But something was wrong. After five years of marriage and a beautiful son, she had been a good wife. She'd been loyal, and caring, affectionate when she could.

But he made it difficult. He brushed her touch away, quelled her loving words with a chaste kiss. He was perfectly polite and nice, but there was no warmth when they made love. Always so proud and dominant, he never let his guard down, even around her.

It was her sister, Bellatrix, who explained it to her.

"It's simple, Cissy," she'd told her. "You're his trophy wife."


	2. Romione: Leaving

**Summary: Hermione meets a certain blonde and suddenly realises her life is not as happy as it appears.**  
 **Words: 120**  
 **Written for the May Event at Hogwarts. Prompt: Nuclear.**

* * *

 **Leaving**

Hermione was raised in a nuclear family. She'd wanted that for her children, too. So, she'd married Ron, and Hugo and Rose had soon come along. She felt content: her life was falling into place.

Years went by before a certain blond Slytherin had re-entered her life through her work. She soon found a familiar dangerous attraction to him gaining momentum once more.

A realisation soon hit her: her life had become bland and boring - miserable. The excitement of her youth was long gone.

She spent months trying to fight it, but nothing worked.

After the dinner plates had been cleared one March evening, she turned to Ron.

"I'm leaving you."

The silence was as loud as an atom bomb.


	3. HermionePercy: The Preposition

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for Hopscotch, for the prompts Percy/Hermione and extravagant.

Words: 341

* * *

 **The Preposition**

"Hermione," Percy began, nervously wringing his hands as he looked at her with wide eyes and a tense neck. Hermione resisted the urge to laugh as she noted it looked as though he was having a difficult time on the toilet. "I have known you for a few years now, and I must say, you are a wonderful witch. You are skilled, beautiful, intelligent. Indeed, almost everything I pride in a woman." His tone was formal and distant, and completely at odds with his words. Hermione began to feel a little embarrassed for him, knowing exactly how this was going to end, but hoping his words were leading in another direction. "Or, not just a woman. In a person. Although, it does help that you are a woman," he rambled, and Hermione bit her lip as she watched him. He breathed in a deep sigh. "What I am trying to say is this. Hermione, would you do me the honour of accompanying me on a date tomorrow evening?"

His eyes were wide and hopeful as he looked at her, and Hermione swallowed. She wasn't sure how to tell him.

"Er, Percy," she began. "Thank you for your lovely and extravagant words, but I'm afraid I can't."

"Why not? Was I too formal? Am I not attractive?" he began, needing to analyse the situation so that it made sense.

"No, none of that," she lied. "The right woman would fall at your feet for a speech like that. The thing is, I'm already on a date tomorrow night. With Ron. We're dating now. I'm… I'm sorry," she bit her lip again. The whole situation was so ridiculous she didn't know how to take it.

"Oh, okay," he said. His eyes hit the floor as he looked crestfallen. Hermione stepped forward to give him an awkward, tense hug, out of kindness and a hope that it would cheer him up. She decided not to linger and left him, heading for Molly and the kitchen.

"She hugged me," Percy said, smiling at the wall.


	4. HermioneRegulus: A Cunning Obsession

Written for:  
"Everybody said: "Be careful of that guy", baby couldn't stop, it was suicide." - In The Sun - Lana Del Rey, A Lyric Prompt Challenge  
"Sometimes people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them." - John Green Books at Gringotts Bank Forum  
Gringotts Prompt Bank: Johnny Depp, Regulus/Hermione (BONUS), "Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.", "Here comes a feeling you thought you'd forgotten.", title: A Cunning Obsession  
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Pogrebin - write about someone causing emotional pain to someone else.  
Words: 517

* * *

 **A Cunning Obsession**

Sometimes, people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them. In sickness and in health, 'til death do us part. They were just words, words I thought I believed in. I thought I knew him. I thought I'd saved him. I thought I'd seen his true colours.

Everybody said, "Be careful of that guy." Baby, I couldn't stop. It was suicide. I held a gun to my own head in the shape of a wedding ring, and he watched and smiled.

I can't fix it now. I can't make a meadow out of a glacier. I can't do anything about it.

He was my Johnny Depp. The rugged, handsome, charming scoundrel who danced in shades of grey, shades between good and evil. But I was going to set him free. I believed in him and his goodness, thinking it would win out. Good always wins, right?

It did, I suppose, for a while. I was happy. We were happy. At Grimmauld Place, the wrongs of generations were balanced out by a happy young couple, smiling. I thought it was true and forever the day we pushed the living room furniture to the sides of the room to dance to the rhythm of our own heartbeats. I forgot all about the pain and suffering I had enjoyed, with him, who helped create some of it. Not directly, no, but he was a part of it.

That's the way it goes though, isn't it? Happiness doesn't last forever. You fall into it, head over heels, willingly. But then you sink so far, you get yourself to this point where the happiness just... runs out. And then it all falls apart. Bam. Here comes a feeling you thought you'd forgotten.

I just... I just wish it was some outside force, someone - anyone else who'd done it. I wish it wasn't in our control to stop it, that we were powerless, both ripped apart from each other.

He told me, "Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story." I thought that he was talking about fate, about destiny. That we belonged together. It brought me joy, then, but now I know. We were in a story, but the story was his. He wrote it, orchestrated the whole thing. Because he didn't care for me. It wasn't love. It was an obsession.

His cunning plan.

Harry, my best friend, he took everything from Regulus. He didn't mean to, of course, he was just trying to do what was best for the Greater Good. My dear husband didn't see it that way.

I was just a part of his plan to take everything from Harry. To repay the favour. I learned the truth too late, and the worst part is that by trying to stop him, I made it worse.

I ran, I told Harry and Ron and they did what they always do. They played the heroes. They went off to stop him, and faced him in combat. Because of me, Ron is dead.

And I'm broken.

And Harry lost everything.

I thought it was love.


	5. Tedtoire: Fairytale Beginnings

**Written for:  
Speed Drabble:** "It was like a fairytale." Dreamy and Giggle.  
 **February Event:** (dialogue) "I love you." / "I love you more." / Not a chance. I'm bigger, I can contain more love." And (object) bouquet of flowers.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Teddy Lupin  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 603\. Lost in Space and Time.  
 **Writing Bingo:** Witch Weekly.  
 **Valentine-Making Station Challenge:** Teddy Bear Sticker – Write about Teddy Lupin.  
 **School of Prompts:** Grade 4:1 – At least 100 words, Tragedy.  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** The Forbidden Forest must be the primary location of your story.  
 **Words:** 1227

* * *

 **Fairytale Beginnings**

"What was it like?" the girl asked, pushing strawberry blonde hair back messily over her ear. She was staring at him with large, eager eyes and parted lips as she tugged at the frayed cuffs of her old cardigan.

"It was… it was like a fairytale," he replied, his voice strained and weak as his eyes look somewhere over her left shoulder, into a distance further away than anything in the room.

.o0o.

 _The world was aflame in oranges and browns as October began to wane. Early morning birdsong filled the air around them. A girl with long, straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes looked back over her shoulder with a broad grin. She was tugging her boyfriend along by the hand, closer to the trees all the time, enchanted by the rustling debris of the season._

 _"Come on," she encouraged him. The Forbidden Forest was, supposedly, forbidden, but on a day like today, Victoire couldn't stay away, and who could blame her? She only wanted to stroll around the edge, kick up the leaves and watch the squirrels._

 _"I'm coming," Teddy replied, never taking his eyes off of the woman for a second. She'd covered her head in a brown woolly hat and around her neck was a matching scarf. The colour paired with her hair wonderfully, giving her an earthy, homely look. The cold had brought out the colour on her cheeks and nose, and made her eyes shine with icy freshness. She'd never looked more alive, or more beautiful._

.o0o.

The girl sighed and picked up a copy of _Witch Weekly_ , flicking through the pages slowly, her eyes glazed over. They both knew she wasn't reading it. She was pretending, because she'd grown used to her mother worrying too much and asking questions when she sat staring at nothing in silence, lost in her memories alone. She'd learned how to pretend to be busy. Teddy knew what she was doing, he'd seen her at it a million times. They'd clung together since it happened, the two of them, wrapping themselves up in the few parts of each other that mattered to them.

"We both loved her, but we loved her differently. We didn't love the same woman," the girl finally said, drawing her eyebrows together as she admitted the thing that had been knowing at the corners of her mind.

"They were the same woman," Teddy argued back.

"The same, but different."

.o0o.

 _They had nothing but their wands; no wands to tell the time or methods of communication. They didn't care how long they were out here, not really. It didn't feel particularly important that they went back inside to drink water, or eat. It was like they were lost in space and time, like this moment had promised itself to them forever, if they only wanted it._

 _Victoire bent to the ground at the sight of a snowdrop, reaching out her finger not to pick the flower, but to stroke it, letting the dew settle on her fingers. She stood, smiling, and wrapped her arms around Teddy's waist, pulling him in close against the cold._

 _"I love you," he told her. It wasn't a whisper on the wind, or a shout of indignation. It was a statement, simply made, of a truth long known._

 _"I love you more," she replied, mischief in her smile, knowing how easily that statement could spur him into a pretend fight._

 _"Not a chance," Teddy quickly replied. "I'm bigger, I can contain more love."_

 _Victoire let out a sudden giggle, impressed by his wit. "Maybe I should grow fat, then."_

 _"Fat with love," he grinned._

 _"Sounds dreamy." They laughed together, and Victoire pulled away, turning to stare up at the shafts of light piercing through the canopy above._

 _A squirrel was busying itself on the forest floor some distance away and Victoire watched, enchanted._

 _While her back was turned, Teddy drew his wand and conjured a bouquet of flowers, in shades of red and orange, and stood holding them out as he waited for her to turn around._

 _When she did, she looked at him sideways, her lips pursed as she tried not to smile._

 _"Teddy," she drew out the sound, as if feigning exasperation. She reached out and took the flowers all the same, drawing in a deep breath at the scent. "They look like autumn," she commented, to which Teddy nodded._

 _They began to walk some more, around the edges of the darkness of the forest, and soon found a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the weather. They reached a part of the forest where the birds refused to sing, and took each other's hands in their own._

.o0o.

"It still doesn't make sense to me that she's not here," Dominique admitted, tears forming in her eyes.

"It doesn't make sense, but I can't ignore it. It's like there's a hole in my life now that she used to fill. A gap that'll never be filled. I can feel it even when I sleep," Teddy replied, adding his own grief to Dominique's own.

They could hear the sounds of Dominique's mother busying around the kitchen, preparing dinner, but they weren't hungry. They're grief sustained their misery well enough.

.o0o.

 _The Acromantulas seemed to come from nowhere. Teddy and Victoire immediately drew their wands, turning to run, but their way out was blocked, the spiders moving too quickly for the humans to keep up. They'd wandered further into the forest than they'd thought, and these spiders were hungry._

 _Teddy began sending hexes and curses at the formidable creatures, keeping them back and attempting to clear a path, and Victoire joined him. She let go of his hand to better fight, and defended herself as best she could._

 _There were hundreds there within seconds. They dove towards them and withdrew, drawing nearer all the time, trying to separate the couple. Teddy and Victoire were backing away, back towards the light of the meadow of the grounds of Hogwarts, but they were on high alert, unable to watch their footing as they retreated._

 _Shouts were heard somewhere in the distance, over the piercing screams of the Acromantulas._

 _"The teachers are coming!" Teddy called out, knowing they would be safe soon._

 _Victoire took another step back, and Teddy watched as her foot caught in a tree root. She fell to the floor in slow motion. Teddy continued to fight, but couldn't protect them both. There were too many spiders. She stopped shooting spells for long enough to pull herself off the ground, but they descended before she was upright. Teddy sent two of them reeling back, but the third had its claws around her in a moment. She was helpless. Teddy couldn't do anything to stop them._

 _The spells and power of the teachers joined the fray, but the spider carrying Victoire shuffled away into the darkness, hungry for its' meal. Teddy stared after it, desperate to run and save her._

 _"Are you alright, Teddy?" Professsor Longbottom asked, watching the creatures retreat._

 _"They took Vic."_

.o0o.

Dominique dried her eyes as she looked down at the magazine once again.

"You know," she told Teddy. "She gave me this magazine that morning. She'd finished with it."

Teddy looked at the magazine, suddenly seeing it in a new, holy light.

He shook his head. "I can't believe it's been a year."


	6. DominiqueOC: Coincidence

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (lyric) "If it's a broken part, replace it; if it's a broken arm, then brace it; if it's a broken heart then face it." - Jason Mraz and (emotion/feeling) sensitive.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** James S Potter  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 449\. Splinter  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Dilys Derwent - Use the location of St Mungo's.  
 **Valentine Making Station Challenge:** Butterfly Sticker - write about someone emotionally, mentally, and/or physically fragile.  
 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:** (words instead of said) greeted, responded, admitted, finished (prepositions) but, without, (family vocab) cousin, (emotions and feelings) guilty, fatigued, vulnerable, grief, understanding.  
 **Words:** 1220

 **Warnings for themes of domestic abuse (emotional rather than physical). Nothing explicit.**

* * *

 **Coincidence**

James stared at his cousin in the hospital bed as she slept. She looked tiny wrapped up in the white sheets; fragile beside the softness of the pillow. She looked like she was in pain, even as she dreamed.

He knew she looked a lot worse than she was. She'd only really broken an arm. The doctors said she'd lost a lot of blood, so she was pale and fatigued, but it was only temporary.

James thought the doctor was wrong. He knew the symptoms would only be temporary if the wounds were only physical.

If the truth was told, James wasn't sure why he was here. It wasn't his job to look after her, and her mother had been doing a wonderful job of it. He should be at home, asking his mum if she'd heard anything, making up inventive ways to make Jack Thomas suffer for what he'd done.

But James couldn't stay away. He felt as though there was something more going on than what everyone else was seeing. When Dominique would say she was fine, smiling briefly before looking away at some corner of the room, everyone seemed to hear her words with comfort. James saw the way her smile didn't last long enough to be genuine; he saw how it didn't reach her hard, tired eyes. He'd tried to ask her what was wrong, but she'd just tell him it was nothing. She'd get over it. She'd be fine.

James didn't believe her.

The Quidditch accident was just an accident to everyone else, just a coincidence. Yeah, she'd just broken up with her boyfriend, so it was a horrible coincidence, but they say these things come in threes, and it's not like the two things were related. A week before the fall out, she'd broken the mirror on her dressing table. The French antique had been given to Dominique when she was only young, and she'd loved it ever since. She'd not replaced the mirror yet, knowing it would never look quite the same again, that it would always bear the marks of its past.

Visiting hours in the main ward were over, but Dominique had been given a private room for the night. She'd be sent home in the morning, all patched up. James sat in the chair beside her bed, waiting for her to wake up, knowing he'd never have a better time to talk to her.

It was two hours later when she began to stir. James leant forward, attentive, forgetting about the splinter in his finger he'd been picking at, waiting for her to come around and see him.

"Hey," he greeted softly when she looked at him with a soft smile.

"What are you still doing here?" she asked. "It's only a broken arm, you know." Her voice was thick with sleep still as she used her good arm to pull herself up to seating.

"Is it?" James asked, suggestive.

"What's that supposed to mean? Of course it is. You were here when the Healers examined me; you heard them," Dominique responded, on the defensive even if she didn't quite know why.

"I was also there when you fell off your broom. You've pulled that stunt a hundred times, Dom. It's never gone wrong before. I was watching you. You just… switched off. Half way through, you just turned off, like you forgot where you were and what you were doing. When you came back to reality, it was too late," James told her, explaining things she already knew.

"I just got distracted, that's all," Dominique said, staring at her hands as they twirled restless in her lap.

"Since when do you get distracted playing Quidditch?" James asked, incredulous. "Quidditch is your distraction."

Dominique gave a rueful laugh, knowing she was getting nothing past it. "You see too much," she chastised him, before sighing. James could see resignation on her face as she understood she'd have to explain, so he waited in silence while she gathered her thoughts.

"You know my mirror broke? Did anyone tell you what happened?" she asked, as if hoping she wouldn't have to explain herself.

"Not really."

"I punched it. I broke it on purpose," she admitted.

"Why?"

"Because I got angry. I didn't like what I saw. Jack… Jack was always very quick to tell me what he liked and didn't like about my appearance. I think he thought it didn't really matter, wasn't really important. It was a Saturday, and I was sat at the dressing table with absolutely no idea what to wear, or how to do my make-up or style my hair. I didn't know what was beautiful anymore. I only knew what I liked, and what he liked, and how the two were not the same," Dominique explained, not looking at James as she spoke. It made her feel vulnerable and weak to say out loud, now she could look back on it all with the gift of hindsight.

James didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to help. He looked on in sadness as lines of the things people usually said at times like that floated through his mind, useless. She didn't need pity. James chose not to say anything, hoping that by listening, he was doing enough.

"I should hate him. I know I should. He spent months wearing my down, trying to break me like I was a horse in need of training. He should represent everything I want to spend the rest of my life fighting against, for the sake of all the other girls out there like me," Dominique started, and James waited for the 'but', anticipating the sorrow it would bring. "But I can't. I can't think about it all without thinking about me, because the whole thing just makes me feel stupid. I didn't think I'd ever be one of those girls, a victim. I thought I knew how to see the signs and how to get out. I knew the excuses the victims made, and I'd never make them. But I did. I let him under my skin. I can't stop thinking about it, James. I can't stop feeling guilty."

James watched her as tears began to form in her eyes. Her voice was croaking and weak, as if the weight of her grief was compressing her vocal chords. As if it didn't want to be spoken aloud.

"Dom, it doesn't make you weak. It happens, unfortunately, all the time, to strong, intelligent people. No one ever thinks of themselves as victims; the signs aren't all that easy to spot," James told her, attempting to comfort the sensitive soul. "Look, if it's a broken mirror, we can replace it. A broken arm can be fixed easily. But if it's a broken heart - if you loved him - you need to face it," he finished, his voice not unkind.

"I think… He wasn't worthy of it, but… I think I did love him," Dominique admitted, tears beginning to fall unbidden. James stood and moved to sit beside her on the back, allowing her to sink into his shoulder in search of comfort.

"That's okay," he told her, giving credence to her feelings. "Admitting it, being truthful with yourself, it'll help you get better. I'll help you get better. I promise."


	7. PansyLavender: Heart's Truth

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (quote) "To be your friend was all I ever wanted; to be your lover was all I ever dreamed." - Valerie Lombardo, and (object) card/love letter.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Lavender Brown  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 539\. Heart's Truth  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Brian Gagwilde - include a chess game.  
 **Writing Bingo:** (romantic pairing) Lavender Brown/Pansy Parkinson  
 **Valentine-Making Challenge:** Green Ribbon - Write about a Slytherin.  
 **Words:** 786

* * *

 **Heart's Truth**

When Pansy discovered the Room of Requirement, she knew exactly what she wanted to do with it. She brought Lavender there as soon she could, on a lazy Saturday afternoon in February. The weather outside was warmer than usual for the season, so students were making the most of it, leaving the castle to students like Lavender and Pansy, who did their best to not be seen together in public.

The space given to them by the magical room was, for all intents and purposes, perfect. Cushions strewn in a corner to lounge on, a fire blazing in the hearth, a small bookshelf. There was even a table full of snacks and drinks, and a large desk they could finish homework on. It felt like a home away from home for the girls, and a safe space.

They soon busied themselves with a game of Wizard's Chess - not because either of them particularly loved chess, but because it provided a backdrop to their idle chatter.

Pansy looked up at Lavender with a smile as she moved her Knight to take a pawn.

"What are you smiling about?" Lavender asked, her cheeks flushed pink at the direct attention.

"I know it's not Valentine's Day yet, but I wanted to give you this," Pansy announced, reaching into her bag to pull out a red envelope. She held it over the chess board for Lavender, who took it with a polite thank you and a lopsided grin.

Lavender carefully opened the envelope, taking out an elegant white card, decorated with two interloping pink hearts, each topped with a bow - one red, one green. She opened the card and began to read the words aloud.

"My Lavender. To be your friend was all I ever wanted; to be your lover was all I ever dreamed. Happy Valentine's Day. Love Pansy," Lavender whispered, smiling at the sentiment. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"I'm glad you like it," Pansy grinned back.

"Is this a quote?" Lavender asked, reading the words through again, her smile dropping slightly.

"I never claimed to be a wordsmith. Yes, it's a quote," Pansy replied, rolling her eyes.

"I thought it was. I was confused by the past tense," Lavender admitted, the chess game forgotten.

"What do you mean?"

"'To be your lover was all I ever dreamed,'" she read again. "It makes it sound like it's over."

Pansy said nothing, only let out a strange little giggle and looked away, as if something made her uncomfortable.

"What?" Lavender prompted.

"Nothing. It's not past tense," Pansy defended. Her smile had faded now, too, to be replaced by a strange hardness in her ice blue eyes, as if there was something she was trying to keep to herself.

"No, there's something. What is it?"

Pansy sighed. She knew Lavender. She wouldn't give up and drop it. Instead, she'd work it up in her mind until it was something way bigger than either of them, a life-changing secret, a deal-breaker.

"Well, one day this will be over, won't it?" Pansy asked, practical and logical, dismissive of her own emotions.

"What?" Lavender asked, heart on her sleeve as she stared on in shock.

"This. Us. It can't last forever. We've got real lives to lead," Pansy's eyes softened a little this time, as if she was aware that she'd begun to break someone's heart.

"I thought… I thought this was real life," Lavender argued weakly.

"What? Fooling around in secret? Fear of being found out? Knowledge that our friends, and families, and allies, and everyone would disapprove? This isn't real life, Lav. We're on opposite sides of a war, in school houses that hate each other, surrounded by prejudice and judgement. I'm expected to grow up and marry well for the sake of my family. Produce heirs. You're the brave one, not me," Pansy explained, her voice starting strong and adamant and fading to a sad resignation.

"I thought we could face all that if we were together. I thought we could be okay. Just because things are expected doesn't mean they have to be," Lavender replied.

"For you, maybe, but I'm a Slytherin. That's my heart's truth. I have ambition to be something, to make my parents proud, to be looked on with good grace and favour. I don't have the courage to consider any other future. I'm sorry."

There was silence for a while as Lavender took in Pansy's words and tried not to cry.

"So, this is it then?" she finally asked.

"It doesn't have to be," Pansy said so quietly, Lavender almost didn't hear it. "We still have now."

"I don't know… I don't know if I want today if it doesn't come with a tomorrow."


	8. AntoninMolly: Never Break A Promise

**Written for:**  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Antonin Dolohov - Write an Antonin/Molly.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Antonin Dolohov  
 **Valentine Making Station:** Be Mine Conversation Hearts Candy - write about a possessive, unhealthy relationship.  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 643\. Sweet Revenge  
 **Words:** 667

* * *

 **Never Break A Promise**

Before there was Arthur, there was Antonin. Molly had been bravely naïve and young, and Antonin had been the charismatic bad boy with a cheeky smile and dragon hide jacket. He looked just like Molly dreamed love would look like, with an aristocratic jawline perpetually covered in stubble. He knew just what to say to make her weak at the knees. She was fifteen, and she didn't yet know that danger could look a lot like a friend.

He'd won her over in silent corners of the library; under the Quidditch pitch stands; be the edge of the Forbidden Forest at sundown. She didn't know yet who he would grow to be. Voldemort's name was just a whisper on the wind, a word for debate in the comment pages of the Daily Prophet. A figurative idea, an abstract concept. There were pureblood families with their ideals, sure, but they were so far removed from Molly's life that they didn't bear thinking about. She didn't think to ask Antonin what he believed.

She was sixteen when she told him she loved him. He smiled in that lopsided way he had, and it made Molly giggle. He leaned in to kiss her, his hand snaking around to the back of her head. She let herself melt into him like she was chocolate under his touch, melting into his mould.

"My little bird," he whispered into her ear, reciting his pet name for her like it meant the same thing as 'I love you'.

Molly was eighteen when Arthur admitted he liked her. Arthur didn't know about Antonin, no one did. Arthur thought Molly was available, and so he gave her a bouquet of flowers and asked her out. It was sweet, very sweet, and it made Molly smile. She realised she couldn't say no without a reason, and she didn't have a reason she could share. She said yes. Arthur didn't know about Antonin, and now Molly had to ensure Antonin didn't find out about Arthur.

She'd thought Antonin was perfect until she had someone to compare him too. As soon as she did, she realised that the way Antonin demanded she spend her evenings with him rather than her friends wasn't romantic at all; it was controlling. In fact, there were lots of little things like that; things that kept building up.

Eventually, a teary-eyed Molly snapped out of the illusion he'd built for her, and told him she was leaving. Antonin told her she wasn't, gripping her wrists so tightly that it hurt; that she couldn't pull away. She told him he didn't love her. He reminded her he'd never said he did.

Molly left, and Antonin left her a promise: that one day, she would pay.

It was many years later, after the birth of her first son, that the war began in earnest. She looked to her husband and the muggle items he collected and loved, and she looked to the list of the enemies' names in the Daily Prophet, reading Antonin Dolohov over and over again. She'd made the right choice.

Albus Dumbledore organised a counter-movement, a group of people fighting for the opposite cause. Molly watched her brothers valiantly go off to fight. The first time they faced him, they told her he'd just smiled at them, defended himself, and not thrown a single curse. They told her it was disconcerting. She reminded them it was years ago, now, and he'd probably forgotten all about her.

When her brothers were found dead a few months later, Molly's tears fell so quickly, her sobs came so violently that she was unable to breathe, her chest more painful than anything she'd known before. She went to identify the bodies, leaning on her husband for support. They showed what they'd found in their pockets. Their wands, both broken. A chocolate frog. A lighter. Money. The usual things.

And nestled in the middle, a note, written in Antonin's fine script. She'd recognise it anywhere.

 _Molly, I never break a promise._


	9. PenelopePercy: Friends With Benefits

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (title) Friends With Benefits, and (colour) lavender  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Penelope Clearwater  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 916\. Fragments of Your Heart  
 **Writing Bingo:** Love Triangle - Percy/Penelope/Lee  
 **Submitted to Fanfiction Writing Month at Hogwarts**  
 **Words:** 627

* * *

 **Friends With Benefits: Fragments of Your Heart**

Penelope was Percy's girlfriend. The whole school knew it. Percy was a very respectable partner, and he was a perfect gentleman. Everyone told Penelope how lucky she was to have caught him.

Penelope didn't feel lucky. At least, not all of the time. She knew that Percy would get a good job, and so between them, they'd earn enough to live a very comfortable lifestyle. She was looking forward to that.

But right now, at seventeen, Penelope was bored. She had a craving for excitement and passion that Percy didn't begin to satisfy. It was like an uncomfortable itch she just couldn't reach to scratch.

That was how she found herself in a broom cupboard with Lee Jordan. At least, those were the reasons she gave herself afterwards, when the guilt began to set in. Lee had scratched that itch she'd had, in a friends-with-benefits sort of way, and she'd learned it perhaps wasn't worth it in the end anyway.

It definitely wouldn't happen again.

Except, of course, that it did. It was a Saturday, and Penelope wanted to go outside and relax in the sun. Percy wanted to study, as his NEWTs were coming up. She began to head out into the grounds alone, but she didn't quite make it there.

"Fancy seeing you here," Lee began by way of a greeting.

"What do you want, Jordan?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"I think the question is: what do you want?" he replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, irate.

"Do you want Percy?" he asked, more directly.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't be with him if I didn't," Penelope replied.

"You wouldn't have slept with me if you did," he countered.

He began walking towards her, and before long, he was far closer than Penelope was comfortable with. She was very grateful that the corridor was deserted.

"It was a mistake," she told him.

"Are you sure that was the mistake?" he asked her.

"What do you mean? You're confusing me."

"No I'm not. You were already confused. You just don't want to admit it to yourself," he replied. He reached out to push a strand of her hair behind her ear, and Penelope felt herself relax as she sighed. As he lowered his hand, he reached out for her fingers. "Come on," he told her, pulling her gently along.

Penelope followed willingly as he led her into a broom closet. He placed all the usual charms over the door before Penelope melted into his arms. As much as she tried to deny it, she wanted Lee. She wanted him like she'd never wanted anyone before.

Fumbling for their clothes when all was said and done, Lee stopped and turned to her. She was still stood in nothing but her lavender underwear, but she felt no shame. She stopped dressing to listen to him.

"If you keep leaving fragments of your heart strewn all over the place, the wrong man's going to find them one day."

"Do you always talk in riddles?" she asked in response.

Lee smiled kindly. "Your heart is breaking with him. It's crying out for attention, for excitement. For what you really want. That's why you're here. You're throwing the pieces of your heart at me, hoping I'll catch them. But if that doesn't work, you'll just move on to the next. And you'll keep going, and you'll end up with nothing left of your heart but charred remains."

"You don't know me," Penelope replied, defensive.

"I think I do," he replied softly. "If you know what your heart wants, leave him. Come find me," he finished, and began to leave.

Penelope didn't know what to say. She was caught in the middle, and she hadn't even realised it. She watched him leave and sighed.


	10. TomMyrtle: My Fair Lady

**Prompts listed in the AN at the end.**

* * *

 **My Fair Lady**

I believe there are monsters in the world born to human parents. I believe that he is one of them. He played me like I was a doll; lured me into a beautiful nightmare and watched as my heart shattered into a million fragments. He left me broken and afraid. He drove me insane; I reverted back to my childhood like it was the only happiness I'd ever known. Once, I saw the man behind the beast. Now there's only a beast.

It began with the first lesson I should have learned. The second you're perceived as weak, you already are. I was in the library, and Tom and his friends were a few tables over. It was their fifth year, though I was two years below them. April was beginning to rear its head, along with the final term of the year, and while the rest of us mere mortals were studying as much as we could to get the grades we wanted in our end of year exams, they were sat there without a single book out on the desk in front of them, their laughter disturbing the innate peace of the whole room. No one dared tell them to be quiet.

"Tom, you never seem interested in girls," I heard one of his friends comment.

"That's because love is for fools. I could make any girl I wanted fall in love with me, but the price isn't worth it," he replied, his usual self-important tone colouring his words.

"That's a rather bold claim."

"I think we should put that theory to the test. Her," came another of his friends' reply. I didn't look up. I didn't want to know which poor unfortunate soul they'd picked on this time; which heart they'd offered to sacrifice like a lamb to the slaughter.

"Who is she?" asked another voice.

"The Girl with No Name," Tom replied. "A Mudblood. Hardly worth my time."

"It's nothing serious, though, is it? It's a game. And she looks ripe to be played with." The echo that carried around the room brought with it a sinister shiver. His words sounded deadly.

I looked back to my work and tried to ignore the rest of their conversation. They wanted to ruin yet another life, and I was powerless to stop them. Instead, I turned a blind eye and acted as though I didn't know a thing.

* * *

It was two days later when I saw him again. I was out in the grounds catching what little heat the Spring sun provided, and he was heading down towards the banks of the lake. I watched him for a few moments, wondering how someone could command so much attention just be walking. Tall, handsome, confident, walking with that charismatic smile of his. That was when he saw me. Suddenly, he wasn't walking to the lake anymore. He was walking towards _me_.

I don't know why my heart felt the need to skip a beat. Maybe it was just simple biology. I was a girl, after all, and a boy as handsome as him had never so much as acknowledged my existence before. Maybe it was a warning, as if my heart knew the path this would lead me down; as if it could feel the shadow of the pain I would one day endure.

"Hello," he said as he sat down beside me, as if he'd done it a million times. I wondered if that was the trick. If you looked like you'd done something countless times before, maybe people just accepted that you had, and didn't stop to ask questions. "You're a third year, if I'm not mistaken. How are you finding your electives?"

"Care of Magical Creatures is interesting, and relatively easy. But Muggle Studies isn't quite what I expected it to be," I told him, and his dark eyes stared intently into mine as if he was actually interested in the answer, like what I had to say was precious in some way. The attention was so foreign to me, it made me uncomfortable.

"What's so bad about Muggle Studies?" he asked, curious.

"Well, it's, er… it's not easy," I admitted.

That was when he laughed. His laughter was heard so rarely, it had the power to electrify. It's sweet, silken notes rang loud and clear like hidden in them was a song.

"Herbology's my favourite subject, though," I added when his laughter died down.

"I prefer Dark Arts," he replied.

"Don't you mean Defence Against the Dark Arts?" I asked.

"Of course," he smiled and looked at me, a strange sort of brooding in his dark eyes.

It seemed to me like there was something unsaid lurking between the lines of what he said, but I didn't know what that was. I didn't understand.

"Remind me of your name," he casually asked.

"Myrtle. Myrtle Warren," I told him, drawing my eyebrows together in confusion.

"Of course. It was lovely talking to you. Perhaps I'll see you again," he replied, and smoothly moved to stand, smiling at me before he walked away.

It was only then that I remembered his conversation with his friends in the library. A thought struck me somewhere in the back of my mind where misery and gloom loved to reign. There was a possibility that I was The Girl with No Name.

* * *

His painstaking attention to detail soon became apparent. Anything I told him, everything he asked of me, he remembered my answers. He'd bring up facts about me casually in conversation. It made me feel like he cared. I made him into some kind of angel in my mind, like he was made of starlight and sunshine, and the darkness had never touched him. I didn't see the shackles he was closing around my wrists, tying me to the fate he was laying out for me.

I was sat in a disused classroom, waiting for him, some time in early May. A spider was building its web in the corner, and I was watching intently. The spider had made the frame, with lots of straight strands of silk joining together in the middle, attached at the ends to the stones of the walls. Its legs were working their way around in spirals, starting in the middle and working outwards, to complete the orb. As I watched, a small insect flew too close, and became entangled in the threads. The spider was on it in a flash, spinning the insect round and round while its hind legs worked the silk. It didn't take long for the insect to stop fighting.

When Tom walked in, he was already smiling.

"My fair lady," he called me, and I couldn't help but smile. "How are you?" he asked.

"Much better now that you're here," I told him.

His arms came around my waist and I relaxed instantly. I hadn't noticed myself get all wrapped up; I hadn't seen myself fall for him; but all of a sudden I was intensely aware of how dependent I was on him for my happiness. It was like I'd been half a person before, walking through life with my eyes half-closed, but now I saw the world in all its glorious colour. It was like I'd never quite fit in my own shell before him, but now I knew how to contain myself, with the shape of him holding me together at the edges where I was most likely to come undone.

"I brought something for you," he said, and drew his wand. He didn't even mutter an incantation, but I knew he'd performed some kind of spell when a bouquet of flowers burst forth from his wand.

I was completely taken aback as I took them from him, amazed at the bright, blood red colour of the tulips and roses amidst the perfect white of the lilies.

"Roses symbolise passion. Tulips stand for everlasting love," he told me.

It frightened me. We'd known each other for a matter of weeks, and he was giving me something that to him represented a passionate, infinite love. I could feel his eyes on me as I ran my fingers over the petals of a begonia. He was watching for my reaction.

"They're beautiful," I told him, my voice flat.

"You can tell me what you really think, you know. I don't bite," he replied.

I smiled. "Isn't it a little soon to be talking of love?"

"Is that what you think, or is that what you believe you're supposed to think?" he asked.

I was caught off-guard by the question. I replied by telling him I didn't know, but the question was on my mind for days after that. I'd never really had many opinions that were completely my own.

"There's a party in the Slytherin Common Room this weekend," he told me. "I'd like you to accompany me."

"Really?" I asked, as if I was unsure of my own importance in his life.

He laughed. "Really."

"Okay."

* * *

I'd heard it said that we're all damaged somehow, but I knew that wasn't true. I wasn't damaged, not before him. Love is a weapon as dangerous and persuasive as magic, and he took that weapon and turned it on me like it was a machine gun at point blank range. He persuaded me to see only what I wanted to see in him, and I left out all the rest like it didn't matter; like it didn't set off a million warning bells in my head.

What Tom did was give me hope, and hope is a dangerous thing. The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains but its charred, withered embers. My heart was so close to death when Tom found me, and he filled my heart with fresh green leaves, full of life. I went to that party that weekend, and he set my heart on fire, turning all those hopeful young shoots to charcoal.

We were in a quiet corner of the Common Room while the raucous erupted all around. He asked me how the flowers were doing, and I told him they were still very much alive. He leaned in to kiss me, a brief, respectful, chaste kiss. I don't know if it was the volume of all the voices around us confusing me, or the alcohol I'd drunk, or if it was just me, and I really was that stupid. But when he leant back and smiled at me, I smiled back, and whispered three small words.

I thought he was the only one who'd be able to hear me, but I was wrong. A laughter began to build up, radiating away from us as the news spread, until the whole room seemed to be laughing at me. A bottle of champagne was opened and passed around, as if there was some sort of celebration going on.

I was confused; I didn't understand. I looked to Tom, hoping for some sort of explanation. All I saw was his wicked grin. All I heard was his laughter, the electric energy in the silken song of his laughter filled my ears like it was the only sound I'd ever known.

As the tears began to fall, unbidden, I realised how wrong I'd been about him from the start. How naïve I'd been. I'd painted him as an angel made of starlight; but that was just a disguise for the devil that lived beneath the surface of his eyes.

I ran from that room as fast as I could, the laughter chasing me down the corridors until I made it home to the Ravenclaw Tower. My heart was more than broken. It was shattered. I could feel the pain of each fragment so intensely, I clutched at my chest as the sobs wracked through my frame. I didn't know why they called it heartbreak. It felt like every other part of my body was broken too. In that moment, with the wounds freshly formed, I wanted to die. I didn't understand how I still had a pulse. They say the heart is the only broken instrument that still works, but right then, curled up under my blanket, sobbing into my pillow, I wished it wouldn't. I wished it would let itself be broken, and like a watch counting down the seconds, stop working, and leave time to carry on without it.

My life with him had been like a dream that I didn't quite believe in, but the ending… that was worse than any of my darkest nightmares.

* * *

 **Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (title) My Fair Lady and (object) champagne.  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Myrtle Warren  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 955\. The Girl With No Name  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Elizabeth Burke - Write about a bully.  
 **Valentine-Making Station:** Cupid Sticker: Write about a love that is painful.  
Submitted to **Fanfiction Writing Month** at Hogwarts.  
 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:**  
Great Literature Quotes: "The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains." - Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha  
Great Literature Quotes: "I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents." - John Steinbeck, East of Eden  
Great Literature Quotes: "We're all damaged somehow." - Libba Bray, A Great and Terrible Beauty  
Word Set: brood, fragment, strange, painstaking  
Word Set: sacrifice, starlight, electrify, bite  
Word Set: precious, broken, echo, shackles  
Word Set: sweet, nightmare, flat, (object) spider web  
Genre Specific Prompts: Angst/Drama/Hurt/Comfort/Tragedy - (words) blood, pain, dependent, understand, gloom, peace, devil, contain. (objects) wand, flowers.  
Love/Relationship Quotes: "I don't know why they call it heartbreak. It feels like every other part of my body is broken too." - Terri Guillemets.  
Love/Relationship Quotes: "The heart is the only broken instrument that works." - T.E. Kalem.  
Inspiration taken from the Writing Manipulative People thread.  
Once Upon a Time Quotes: "Love is a weapon as dangerous and persuasive as magic." - Hook.  
Once Upon a Time Quotes: "Once, I saw the man behind the beast. Now there's only a beast." - Belle.  
Orange is the New Black Quotes: "The second you're perceived as weak, you already are."  
 **Words:** 2102


	11. RomildaColin: The Relationship Talk

**Written for:**  
 **February Event at Hogwarts:** (dialogue) "You're late." / "You're stunning." / "You're forgiven." and (colour) baby pink  
 **200 Characters in 200 Days:** Romilda Vane  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 804\. When The Light Goes Out, You'll Understand  
 **Minor Characters Bingo:** Romilda Vane  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Fairy – Write about someone perceived as narcissistic or vain.  
 **Valentine-Making Challenge:** Heart Shaped Hole Punches - Write about a break-up.  
 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:** (colour) Baby Pink, (Once Upon a Time Quotes) "If only your wits matched your looks." - Cruella (Great Literature Quotes) "Beauty is an enormous, unmerited gift given randomly, stupidly." – Khaled Hosseini, _And The Mountains Echoed_. "The only lies for which we are truly punished are those we tell ourselves." – V. S. Naipaul, _In A Free State_ (Communal Locations: Restaurant/Pub Names) The Pearl Pantry, (said words) complained, declared, groaned, questioned, responded, quizzed, retorted, proclaimed, explained, confessed, quipped, wondered, remarked, breathed, affirmed. (emotions/feelings) uneasy, incensed, miserable  
 **Words:** 1453

* * *

 **The Relationship Talk**

Romilda stood outside the restaurant, tapping her foot. She could have gone inside, but she preferred it out here, where none of the other diners could see her, watch the minutes go by, and look on her with pity as they guessed he wasn't coming, muttering to themselves about how she was "such a pretty girl" and how he "probably doesn't deserve her anyway". She'd heard those lines countless times with each man she'd hung out to dry on her washing line of exes. She'd really thought that Colin wouldn't be one of them.

But twenty minutes had rolled by and there was still no sign of him. Romilda sighed, running a hand through her loose dark curls. She was past the point of caring if she messed her hair up.

She hadn't been with Colin for long – this was only their fifth date – but he'd been great so far. They'd been owling each other every couple of days, and he'd never been late before. He was attentive, and always told her she was beautiful.

Romilda wasn't crazy; she knew it wasn't love. But that wasn't a problem for Romilda. Love wasn't what she was looking for. She knew it was shallow of her, but she wanted attention. She wanted a man who would show her off to his friends just to make them jealous. She wanted to feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. So Colin being late was a problem in more ways than one. It was difficult to feel drop-dead gorgeous when your date couldn't even be bothered to show up on time.

She looked around one last time, telling herself she'd give him five more minutes before leaving. That was when she saw him. He was on the other side of the road, watching the traffic for a safe moment to cross. She folded her arms and put on her best bitch face, ready to give him a grilling. As he drew near, she couldn't help but be impressed by his attire: a three-piece tailored suit with well-shined black shoes. Even if he was looking dapper, it didn't make up for the lost time.

"You're late," she complained when he was close enough to hear.

She watched him as he appraised her, his eyes travelling down her body, tucked neatly into a little black dress, heels, and a short coat, and back up to meet her gaze as he smiled appreciatively. Romilda was finding it harder and harder to be mad by the second. He greeted her by pulling her straight into a kiss, his hands snaking around her waist. She kissed him back, and when he pulled away, she saw hints of her baby pink lipstick on his mouth. She couldn't help but smile a little.

"You're stunning," he declared.

Romilda tried not to smile, she really did. She didn't want to give in that easily. She pursed her lips, but the humour snuck through, and she sighed.

"You're forgiven," she groaned with a roll of her eyes.

"Good," he quipped. "I am sorry, though. I didn't mean to leave you waiting. I only got out of that meeting at seven. I got here as fast as I could."

"You mean you went to work in a three-piece suit?" she questioned, confused and impressed in equal measure.

"We had clients in today. I had to make a good impression," he responded.

As he spoke, he dropped his arms from around her waist and took her hand instead, leading her into the restaurant.

The Pearl Pantry was one of the most expensive restaurants in Norfolk. It was one of those places that tried to look rustic and authentic, with open log fires, beams in the ceiling, mismatched furniture and uneven floors. Of course, the price for the slight discomfort caused by these faked authentic features was about double what you'd pay in any other restaurant in the county, making it the place to be seen at. They were quickly shown to their table on arrival, and Colin pushed ahead of the waiter to take Romilda's coat and hold her chair out for her. He even attempted to order for the both of them, but when he asked for the crab ravioli with a tomato and olive sauce, Romilda had to step in to inform him she didn't like olives.

Romilda was, all in all, having a wonderful time. He'd not let her glass get empty; he'd referenced how good she looked four times now; and she'd spotted at least three men at other tables eyeing her up. She was feeling more than a little special, and it suited her just fine.

That was, at least, until about halfway through the main course, when Colin looked up to ask her something.

"Where do you see this going?" he wondered aloud, drawing his eyebrows together in contemplation.

Romilda paused for a few moments and swallowed. She bought herself a little time by taking a sip of wine. They all asked this question at some point, Romilda knew that. She'd had enough experience. Most men waited until around the three-month mark, but apparently not Colin, who appeared to think it was acceptable to have "The Relationship Talk" after a mere four and a half weeks.

"I'm not sure I quite know what you mean," she laughed, attempting to keep the atmosphere light-hearted, or at the very least non-serious.

Colin wasn't having any of it. "You know exactly what I mean," he remarked. "Don't get me wrong. You're a wonderful woman. You're beautiful and funny, and I think we really could have something here. I just get the feeling we aren't in this for the same reasons."

"Well, what are your reasons?" Romilda quizzed.

"I'm looking for a future. I know it's only early days, but I want you to know where I stand. I've been in enough relationships just for the sake of being in a relaltionship," Colin confessed. "Can you honestly say the same?"

Romilda shrugged and looked away. "I'm just having fun," she explained.

"I feel like you just don't really want anything out of life. You're just happy to float on through," he told her.

"Well, what's the matter with that? I don't need love just because the world tells me I do," she declared.

"Love's not some new lipstick, you know. It's not an overhyped, mass-market beauty product the magazines are gushing over today, but they'll have forgotten about by tomorrow. It's real, you know. Your whole life so far, you've lived in this sunny world inside your own head. But when the light goes out, you'll understand," Colin proclaimed.

Romilda felt affronted. She'd never known someone be so direct with her, not someone she was still getting to know. She felt like he'd made presumptions about her, but even worse than that, she was worried he was right.

"Why do the lights need to go out? Why do you presume that they will? They won't if I don't let them," she retorted, anger bubbling just beneath her words.

"Because they do for everyone at least once. Life isn't always happy. It's not meant to be."

Romilda said nothing as she stared down at her cannelloni, no longer feeling hungry enough to eat.

Colin's sigh broke the silence. "Beauty is such an enormous, unmerited gift given randomly, stupidly," he commented, and Romilda struggled to understand what he was trying to say.

"Are you telling me I'm stupid?" she accused.

"No, that's not what I meant. If only your wits matched your looks," he breathed.

"Okay, if you weren't then, you are now," she argued.

They were drawing the attention of other diners now, but Romilda was past the point of caring.

"Let's just agree to disagree, and leave things to rest. We both want different things, and we're not going to find those things with each other," he affirmed as he made to stand. "Goodnight, Romilda. Have a nice life."

Romilda was incensed. Not only did he have the audacity to start an argument with her in the middle of dinner, but he was now going to leave her there alone. She watched as he walked to the bar to pay before he left, and felt entirely miserable. She waited until he'd definitely gone before she made her own exit, wanting nothing more than a couple of shots of her favourite whiskey to take the edge off the evening.

There was a small part of the back of her mind, a part she tried to squash as well as she could, that felt uneasy. It was a part of her that was trying to convince the rest of her that maybe, just maybe, Colin was right.


	12. RemusLily: When Love Loses

**Written for:  
Tear My Heart Out Event** at Hogwarts  
 **Valentine-Making Station:** Glitter – Write about a big mess that is difficult to clean up.  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 847\. Beyond All Repair  
 **Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Manticore – Write about any part-human creature. (Spoiler Warning: Remus is a werewolf)  
 **Words:** 2650

* * *

 **When Love Loses**

"Lily, can I have a word?"

I turned to see Remus stood in the otherwise empty corridor behind me, shuffling his feet and avoiding my eyes. His hands hung awkwardly by his sides, and he was toying with the sleeves of his robes.

"Er, yeah, sure," I said with narrow, uncertain eyes.

It was late, past curfew, and I was exhausted. A long day – filled with NEWT classes, Arithmancy homework and patrols with a Ravenclaw Prefect I didn't particularly like – meant all I wanted to do was crawl into bed with a good book. But whatever this was looked important, at least to Remus, so as he turned, heading towards the empty classroom closest to Gryffindor Tower, I took in a deep breath, summoned my friendliest attitude, and followed him.

I entered the dark room, lit only by the light of the moon, and saw him stood in the middle, his hands behind his head, facing away from me. I leant on the door to close it, feeling more and more anxious by the second.

"What is it?" I asked, curious, but already feeling as though it was something I didn't want to know.

He turned to face me, fixed my gaze with sad eyes, and sighed.

"This is kind of awkward. I don't know how to say it, really, but here goes," he began, but he paused.

I was feeling rather uncomfortable, which in itself made me feel guilty. Over the years, Remus had become one of my best friends. We'd spent hours in the library together, pouring over homework, which sometimes would turn into us merely pretending to work as we chatted and laughed. We shared the same ideals, me and Remus, and we often found each other's eyes just so we could roll them at Sirius and James' latest antics. Being uncomfortable around him was foreign, and the idea that he could say anything I didn't want to hear preposterous. At least, it was until that moment.

"You're making me nervous," I told him with a shaky giggle, still leaning against the door as if it could somehow ground me.

"Sorry. I'm nervous. Didn't mean to pass it on." He attempted a smile, but even in the dim light, I saw through it. "We've been mates for a while, yeah?" I didn't respond; I had a feeling he'd continue anyway. "I mean, we started chatting about schoolwork in first year, and I think we really became friends in second year. We always got on, but not like I get on with James and the rest. It was always different with you, you know. Calmer. And then, in third year, you worked out my whole family wasn't really suffering from a whole host of horrible diseases. And you… you told me you knew what I was, and – do you remember what you said?" His words were slow, considered. Like he wanted to make sure they were right, but still thought they were falling short.

"Er, not exactly," I lied. I remembered exactly what I said, word for word, and I remembered the way I bit my lip before I spoke. I could recall how I'd spent three days choosing the right words before I said them. It was important I got them right, for our friendship's sake. I knew, even then, that I didn't want to lose him.

"You said, 'I know what you are. I know you're a werewolf, okay, but don't panic. I know that's a part of you, and it's a part I'll never share, but I'm not afraid of it. I'm not afraid of you. I still like all the parts of you I can share, and I still want to, if that's alright with you.' And it's quite possibly the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, you know? Because when the other three found out, they told me with grins on their faces, like our continued friendship was just assumed, and it was to them. But you _knew_. You'd not only put two and two together about what I was, but about how I felt about it, and you knew I didn't want people to know. You didn't just assume we'd carry on as normal after that. You offered it to me. You gave me a choice. No one else had ever done that before."

He wasn't looking at me anymore, but into some far off corner of the past, through rose-tinted glasses, and he was rambling; the words were tumbling out now like a waterfall. And as I stood there, my heartbeats came faster and I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. All my senses were heightened like I was aware of every breath, every little movement I made, the feel of the door on my back and a gentle breeze against my legs. It was like I just _knew_ what was coming next. I think… I think I wanted to run.

"I think I started to see you differently after that day. You weren't just my friend Lily; you were Lily who understood; Lily who saw. I didn't know anything about girls and boys and relationships and feelings then, at thirteen, but I knew something was different," he said, and looked at me, as if he was trying to gauge my reaction as he hinted at what was coming next. There was fear in his eyes as if he was waiting for me to run away or stop him.

I wanted to stop him. I wanted to tell him to shut up, to pretend this had never happened, even though it hadn't happened, yet. If I let him carry on speaking, things would never be the same between us again. But I couldn't find the words. I didn't know what I was supposed to say that wouldn't hurt him in some irreparable way.

As he began to speak again, it struck me that there weren't any words.

"But that was about the same time James started asking you out, wasn't it?" He looked at me with a wry smile. "That was, I think, when we all started looking at girls differently for the first time."

Whatever I said would break a part of him, and it was a part he'd never let me see again.

"The four of us made a pact, then. It was a silly, childish thing that James and Sirius made us swear to. If any one of us fancied a girl, the others would stay away. Thinking back, it was a bit unfair for the girls, I know. We never thought of things like, you know, them having a say in the matter. It never quite worked out in practice the way it was planned in theory, but the plan never had much work put into it." I bit my lip, looked around me for an escape, but the only escape was the door I was leaning against. I closed my eyes against his words as if I wanted nothing more than for this to be a dream. Just a dream.

It was like, over the years, we'd given each other all these little parts of ourselves. He'd given me his humour, his trust, his friendship, his kind smile and his warmth. I'd taken them with gratitude, pieced them all together and made a version of Remus all for my own. He'd done the same with me.

"But that wasn't the point of it, anyway. The point was that we wouldn't let anything come between us. We would be friends forever, and apart from a few bumps in the road, it served its purpose there." I felt tears spring unbidden to the corners of my eyes; tears for a boy who'd struggled so much with himself that the very fact he was saying these words deserved some sort of medal. Tears for a friendship, for years of comradery burst into flames, soon to be nothing more than a pile of ash and memories too bitter to relive.

Because he'd taken those pieces of me I'd given him and he'd rearranged them in a way that I never intended. He'd made a version of me that wasn't real, that wasn't quite me. He'd chosen to see me in a different way than how I saw him.

"But we didn't understand the world at thirteen. We didn't understand love. And I think that when you find love, that one thing, that one person, that you want to be a part of your life forever – not just a part but the main part, the one that you want to build your whole life around – well, surely that should come first?" It should, Remus, it should, but not the way you want. With someone else, Remus, anyone else. Please.

I'd taken the pieces of him and I'd built a friend.

"What I'm trying to say is…" His words trailed off as he plucked up the nerve to finish his sentence. I opened my mouth as if to speak. I wanted to speak. I almost did. I wanted to break whatever spell we were under and stop it, stop him, now, before he finished. Before he said what he'd brought me here to say.

He'd taken the pieces of me, and he'd fallen in love.

"What I'm trying to say is…. Lily, I'm in love with you." I closed my eyes and forgot how to breathe. I wanted so desperately to smile, tell him everything was going to be okay. Make some stupid joke so we could laugh about it later. I wanted to cut the tension with a knife, shatter the atmosphere like it was an atom bomb waiting to explode. I wanted my friend back, by my side, and I would have done anything.

And I didn't have a choice. I had to break his heart.

We stood there in silence, and I looked at him as he looked at me. I don't know what he saw in my face – if it was pity, or guilt, or just plain old sadness – but I could see his hope shatter before I'd even opened my mouth.

"I'm sorry," I heard myself say, but I didn't remember thinking the words. "I… I love James," I told him, and it was only as I said the words that I realised they were true. I wasn't even with James. He'd stopped asking me out last year. We were just friends, no different than my relationship with Remus, I guess.

I told him I loved James, trying to fight back my own tears, knowing now wasn't the time for my own pain, and I looked him dead in the eye.

I'd never seen a heart break before.

His mouth dropped open in surprise; his eyes grew wide. The pain he felt was written in every line on his face, even in the moonlight, I saw his eyes glisten. The stoop in his shoulders and the heavy way he stood told me everything. The weight of my words, of what I said and what it meant, was crushing him, his hopes and dreams. Everything he'd hoped for from this moment had been turned to ash in his ears as my words set fire to his heart.

I heard my first sob escape my throat rather than felt it. I was hardly aware of myself, but all I knew next was that I was crying, really crying, like it was my heart that was breaking. But it wasn't.

"Don't… don't cry," he told me, rushing to be my rock even now, but his voice betrayed him in the way it broke over the words. He leant forward, his eyes drooping at the corners as if all he wanted to do was rush over and wrap his arms around me, to comfort _me_. But he just stood still, rooted to the spot. The longing in his eyes made me worse. I should not be the one seeking comfort right now, and I did not deserve it.

"I'm so… I'm so sorry," I told him over the tears. "I didn't know." My voice was a whisper, but he heard. "I didn't know."

"I know," he told me, whispering back as if there wasn't half a classroom between us. "I thought you did… I thought you'd guessed. But I know… I know now that you didn't."

I didn't understand the importance of that in the moment. I didn't realise what he was trying to say. I was too busy, too wrapped up in the tears I saw fall down his own cheeks. He wrapped his arms around himself, defensive. He was defending himself against the pain I'd caused him.

What he meant was that he'd thought I loved him, too. He'd seen my friendship and taken it as a sign of reciprocation. It was probably the only reason why he'd admitted it. Because he thought I'd say it back.

He began to turn away from me, moving for the first time since I'd cut his chest right open and ripped out his heart. I didn't remember deciding to move towards him, but I'd taken two steps before it registered. I stopped, froze, wondering if it was the right thing to do, or if it would make things worse. I threw that thought away and, against my better judgement, continued my journey across the room to him. I caught his arm, forcing him to turn back around towards me. Up close, the pain in his eyes was almost too much for me to bear.

I'd done that.

It was my fault.

I wrapped my arms around him and he froze against the gesture, stiff and awkward in such close proximity. Soon, he began to relax, and I felt him let go of the tension. I felt his arms wrap around my waist as clearly as I felt his breathing tell me he was still crying, and I was, too.

He leaned his head against my shoulder for just a moment before he was looking up.

"There's nothing I can say. Is there?" he asked, but it didn't sound like a question. He already knew.

"Remus, if I could change my heart, I would do it for you," I told him through the tears that had come unbidden at his question. They made his face all blurry before I blinked and chased them away, and the look on his face… I almost wished I hadn't blinked at all, or I'd kept my eyes closed, or something.

"Does… does James know?" he asked, trying to steady his voice and failing miserably.

I shook my head, drawing a breath up through my nose. When they play scenes like this in the movies, it's the part you never see. It's not pretty, heartbreak. You don't hear stuffy noses full of snot. You don't see the way tears cling ugly to chins, or the clamminess of shaking hands.

"No, no I… I don't think I knew until just now." I shouldn't have said that. I knew the moment the words left my mouth that I shouldn't have said them. Even as he nodded in understanding, I knew I'd only gone and made things worse.

"Perhaps…" he began, and he was stepping back, claiming his arms back from my waist and closing himself off, tucking himself in on himself and I knew as he drew away that I was losing him as surely as he'd lost me. "Perhaps you ought to tell him."

And then he was walking away, and I began to panic. I knew what was happening. I knew he'd walk away and it would be weeks, months, before we truly spoke again. He was heading for the door with certain steps.

"Remus, wait!" I called out, desperate for something more, for my friend, for Remus back.

His pace slowed for a moment, for just a moment, and then he was gone.


	13. RegulusLily: Purple

**Purple**

Every time he called her a Mudblood, she wanted to prove to him that she was more than blood, that she was made of flesh and bone and soul.

Every time she rose to new strengths, he wanted to knock her back down again, remind her of her place, remind her that she was not strong.

The only words they had for each other were in shades of reds and blacks, passionate anger, dangerous conviction, a hatred beyond logic, or reason, or rhyme.

They learned not to speak in each other's company. They learned the silent dances of midnight, how to shine like stars, how to tangle like vines, how to moan like the wind and burn like the sun. The sounds that passed their lips in the night were purple, caught between the serenity of blue and the romance of pink, heightened by the passion of red. Always, they knew the passion of red.

The line between love and hate is thin as a knife edge, and sooner or later, all those who walk it fall off, landing on one side or the other. These two danced on a rooftop in spring, hidden from the eyes of all but the sky, and she stumbled. Their entwined hands brought him down with her. That was when the danger became too much.

Lily left. Regulus never asked why.

* * *

 **Written for:  
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Priscilla Dupont—Write about a love-hate relationship  
 **If You Dare Challenge:** 519\. Hidden Desires  
 **Words:** 227


	14. ScoroseScorily: Sometimes We Lose

**Title:** Sometimes We're Supposed To Lose  
 **Genre:** Drama  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Rating: K+**  
 _Written for Samantha, HP Slash Luv, for winning the Months of the Year Competition I ran._  
Also written for the following challenges:  
 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge:** Albert Boot - Write about someone who can't seem to do anything right  
 **If You Dare:** 7\. Green With Envy  
 **Challenge Your Versatility:** Genre - Drama  
 **Words:** 2887

* * *

 **Sometimes We're Supposed to Lose**

Rose stared out from the window of the Ravenclaw Tower Common Room and felt sick. She was gripping the window frame tightly, knuckles turning white, as she strained to watch the scene below. Scorpius and Albus had been sat alone on the low wall around an old unused outbuilding, laughing together. Rose had seen Lily walk up, with all the confidence of any fifteen year old who believed they were invincible. She'd sat herself next to Scorpius and was now laughing much too hard at something he'd said.

Rose let out a strangled moan of frustration before saying, "That bitch! I don't know how she has the nerve! Look at her, flirting like a prostitute. She's such a child!"

Rose's best friend, Amanda, looked up with a hint of a smile, as if she wanted to laugh but knew it wouldn't be appreciated. "What's she done now?" she asked, without any signs of interest in the answer.

"Him and Albus were just sat on the wall there, minding their own business, and then _she_ walks in, demands their attention, sits next to Scorpius and flirts so outrageously I'm surprised they're not both in fits of laughter. Doesn't she know she looks like a complete arse?" Rose scoffed, face pulled into a scowl as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"No, probably not. Maybe you should tell her?" Amanda suggested with a shrug as she casually flicked through the pages of her Ancient Runes textbook as if it was a magazine.

"Oh, don't you worry, I will! You just wait until the next time I see her!"

Rose saw Lily the next morning at breakfast. Rose was running late, having struggled to get her hair just right, so she headed down to breakfast alone. Rose was walking past the Gryffindor table when she saw her, surrounded by all her friends. She was smiling softly, eating gently, looking, for all intents and purposes, like the perfect picture of femininity. Rose didn't tell her she'd looked like a complete arse. In fact, she even let out a tight smile when they locked eyes. She decided it was in her best interests to seethe only on the inside as she headed to the Ravenclaw table. In fact, she was so busy inwardly seething that she didn't even remember to look for Scorpius like she usually did.

She was halfway through her breakfast, listening to Amanda prattle on about Quidditch, when she realised Scorpius wasn't there. Scorpius always made it to breakfast, but apparently, not today.

"... the Cannons could do really well this season, but they've got nothing o-"

"Where's Scorpius?" Rose asked, cutting Amanda off with a louder voice.

"Were you listening to me?" Amanda asked. Rose at least had the decency to blush a little.

"I know you were talking about Quidditch? Sorry. I'm not with it yet. But you do have to admit it's weird for Scorpius to miss breakfast," Rose replied.

Amanda rolled her eyes in annoyance before settling into a slight frown. "It is, actually. Maybe talk to Albus?"

"I don't want to seem desperate. I'll see if he shows up to Herbology or not."

Scorpius didn't turn up for Herbology. This gave Rose a serious cause for alarm. Scorpius was, by nature, very risk averse, and missing classes wasn't a risk he usually took. Once they were set to task by the professor, Rose made it her mission to move around the large table to her cousin so she could question him.

She leaned forward and opened her mouth, but before she even got a word out, Albus cut her off.

"He's in the Hospital Wing. Do me a favour, will you, and pass the message on to Lily? Because answering the same questions twice every day is getting really, really boring."

Rose pulled her head back, taken aback. Albus had never taken an aggressive tone with her before. She felt as though he'd just slammed a door in her face.

"Well, why's he in the Hospital Wing?" Her tone was as short as his, now.

"Go and ask him yourself," Albus replied.

Rose couldn't help but think that sounded like a very good idea. She did have a free period after Defence Against the Dark Arts. She could easily go up and see him. But still, she was annoyed at how Albus had spoken to her.

"Fine. But I'm not talking to Lily."

The next hour and a half felt impossibly slow, as if they'd lasted years. Of course, they hadn't; time had ticked forwards at exactly the same pace it always did, inching ever onwards with the tick tock of the second hand. But Rose could hardly wait. She had an excuse to see him. Albus had told her to. She didn't need to make up a fanciful tale as an excuse to talk to him; she just needed to forget to mention the details of the conversation she'd had.

She didn't know when Lily's free periods were, and she didn't know how much Lily knew, but she hoped, and would have prayed, that she knew more than Lily and that she got there first. She'd just hate to walk in on the two of them together. She knew herself somewhat well, and knew she'd see red and make a fool of herself. She couldn't risk that.

She wondered if it was too much to take a card. She didn't have any cards going spare, but she could make one. She didn't know what was wrong with him, but if he was in the Hospital Wing, a "get well soon" seemed appropriate. Maybe she should take him a small gift. She had some Honeyduke's Finest in her dormitory that she'd been saving for a rainy day. Fruit and nut, if she remembered rightly. Chocolate always went down well when people were feeling under the weather.

Yes, she decided, shortly before the end of her second class. She'd take him her chocolate, but she would forgo making a card, because she just knew it would look awful. She'd never been artistic, after all.

When the professor dismissed them, Rose didn't even hear her friends calling after her as she left the classroom as quickly as she could, racing to Ravenclaw Tower before heading to the Hospital Wing. She hid the chocolates in her bag, wanting to give them to him at the end of their meeting, so he'd be left with sweet thoughts of her.

She was breathless when she reached the door to the ward, so she stood outside for a few minutes to calm herself down. She brushed down over her hair and clothes to make sure they didn't look like she'd run here straight after class. When her breathing was under control enough to make conversation, she pushed the door open and scoured the room for him.

He was sat up in bed, leaning over some sort of notebook with a quill in hand. His perfect blonde hair was a little dishevelled, while his usually glowing pale face seemed to Rose wan and lifeless. Her heartstrings tugged at his condition and she attempted to smile kindly, warmly.

At the sound of her approach, Scorpius looked up, and his eyes immediately widened. Rose took this as a good sign, even as his mouth hung open in surprise.

"Scorpius! Albus said you were here. I tried to ask him what was wrong but he told me I should come up and ask you myself." Rose pulled a chair around from the middle of the room to seat herself right by his bed. Scorpius pulled the covers up a little higher towards his chin. "How are you? What's the matter?" she asked as she stared at him.

"Er, oh, it's just an allergy. I'll be out by lunchtime," he told her, his voice a little quiet. Rose couldn't help but think it was cute that he appeared nervous around her. She looked away, deciding to allow him a moment to regain his composure.

Her eyes landed on a card on his bedside table. A drawing of a Quidditch broom stood lonely in a cupboard with the words "We missed you this morning - get well soon!" written across the bottom in fancy cursive. It didn't seem very fitting, at least not to Rose. Sure, he played Quidditch, but the Slytherin team weren't on the rota to practice until tomorrow evening, so the broom made very little sense. Rose wondered who bought it, and who it's intended recipient had been before it was sent to Scorpius, alongside, she didn't doubt, the Chocolate Frogs that lay next to it.

"That card's cool, right? She drew it in class this morning and brought it up during her free period last. She's a really talented artist. And Chocolate Frogs are my favourite," Scorpius told her, muttering as he tried to make conversation.

"But, you don't play Quidditch on Tuesday mornings?" Rose replied, confused.

"I, er, do, actually. Not with the team. The field's free before breakfast so I go down with a few friends."

That was new information for Rose, and it wasn't often she received new information about Scorpius, not these days. She turned to look at him surprised. She happened to glance down to his notebook, poorly disguised by the narrow width of his arm, and saw that it was not a notebook at all, in fact, but a sketchbook. His drawings were wildly different to that on the front of the card. They were darker, messier. But there was artistic skill in there, nonetheless.

Rose said nothing.

"Well, it would be weird if I knew everything about you," Rose replied with a large, too high laugh.

"Yeah, sure."

"So, who brought you the card?" Rose asked, attempting a tone of innocent enquiry.

"Er, well, Lily, actually," he said with a small smile.

"Oh. Lily. Sure." Rose faked a smile.

The silence that followed was measurable. Rose cleared her throat as she thought as quickly as she could. She reached into her bag and pulled out the Honeydukes.

"Here! I brought these for you!"

Scorpius looked at the packet and seemed very reluctant to take it. "Er, thanks. You can just put them on the table."

Rose felt a little dismayed at that reaction, but did as she was told with a smile.

"So, what are you allergic to? What did you react to?" she asked, trying to make conversation.

"Erm, nuts."

"Oh," Rose said in a friendly tone. It took her brain a few seconds to catch up. "Oh," she said with more finality. "I'll, er, take these back." She picked the chocolates back up and put them back in her bag, suddenly feeling a need to make a hasty departure.

"So, erm, get well soon!" she said as she began to stand.

"Yes, I'll try. Thanks for coming!" he said, smiling a little.

Rose walked out wishing the floor would open up and swallow her.

The thoughts of how much of a mess she'd made of things followed her around all day, as prominent in her every activity as the chocolate itself in her bag. She couldn't wait to crawl into a hole, curl up in a ball and devour all of the chocolate herself.

She saw Scorpius at lunchtime, of course, and in one of her afternoon classes, but he didn't look over or catch her eye. Rose wondered if this was intentional, and if it was intentional, whether he was ignoring her out of annoyance at her or out of respect for her. She didn't know. It was all so confusing.

"Rose, we're taking bets on the Cannons versus Arrows match this evening," a friend called out, grinning. Rose looked over and blinked.

"I don't know. What does it matter anyway?" she asked, feeling decidedly morose.

"It's just fun, Rose. If you remember what that is. You used to join in once," Amanda replied, with a hard edge to her voice.

Rose didn't understand where that edge had come from. Hardly anyone ever spoke to Rose like that. Or at least, they never used to. It seemed to be getting more frequent, which was not a good thing in Rose's books. She began to wonder what she'd done.

"Sorry," she said, turning back to the food on her plate, pulling herself back out of the conversation. She had some thinking to do.

Once classes were over, Rose began to gather her things so she could head down to the Quidditch Pitch. Slytherin practiced on Tuesday evenings, so naturally, Rose could always be found there. Amanda had always joined her, too. Rose wasn't sure if Amanda would want to come today, but it seemed like a fair attempt at redemption for her to invite her.

"Amanda, I was… well, I was wondering if you wanted to come to the Quidditch Pitch with me?" Rose asked, feeling the tightness of her collar around her neck, the dampness in the palms of her hands.

Amanda didn't respond with anger; she merely sighed. "No, Rose. I don't want to go with you. I want five minutes of friendship with you that don't have anything to do with _him_. In fact, _all_ of your friends want that."

Amanda walked away before Rose had a chance to reply. She couldn't understand the mix of emotions she felt. There was both anger and frustration, but they sat besides shame and guilt. She couldn't work out which emotions were the right ones. Sitting down in the Quidditch stands a few minutes later, it was as though her heart had been placed in a muggle blender.

She could see Lily nearby, in the next stand over, sat with her friends. Rose felt uncomfortable alone, but she didn't let it show. She pulled out her book and angled her head down, pretending to read while she looked up tough her eyelashes at the pitch. No one had looked her way yet. No one seemed to have seen her. The players on the pitch were winding down a drill. Lily saw this and almost ran to the pitch. Rose didn't move.

What she saw next knocked the wind right out of her. As Lily approached the pitch, Scorpius flew down and landed right beside her.

And he kissed her.

Rose stared, unable to look away. Scorpius placed his hands on Lily's hips and smiled. Albus ran to the pair and grabbed Scorpius' shoulder, saying something that caused Scorpius to drop his hands. Lily looked up and stared right at Rose. She turned back to Scorpius for a moment and then the pair were walking away from each other. Lily was walking towards Rose.

Rose didn't know what to do. Her brain wasn't working, wasn't giving her any answers. Lily drew closer and closer and there was no way for Rose to escape. She didn't want this conversation. Not now, not ever.

"Rose," Lily began. Dos had never heard her own name said with such pity. "I'm sorry."

 _I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to shut up. Shut up shut up shut up. Leave me alone._ All these words Rose felt but she couldn't say anything. Her mouth refused to move.

"We wanted to tell you. We didn't want you to find out this way. We didn't know you were here."

Rose was staring at a distant patch of grass as the word 'we' reverberated around her mind. She hated the word. Hated it.

"We both knew you liked him, too, you see, and I know things have been complicated between me and you for a while now."

Why did she get the higher moral ground? Why did she, the younger one, the dumber one, the shallow one, get to talk with such condescension? Their fight over the boy was apparently over, but Rose hated her even more.

"He did… he did try to tell you he wasn't interested that way. He just didn't want to hurt you, He likes you as a friend, Rose. We both do."

Lily threw the pity card at her like it was a kindness and still, Rose couldn't find her voice.

She'd been focused on him, she'd never even considered a possibility like this.

She was certain everything would be perfect.

Nothing was perfect.

And Albus…

And Amanda…

And here Lily was, the only person still playing nice.

Rose wanted to scream. She wanted to shout. She wanted to cry. She wanted to do all three at once so that nothing came out of her but loud, unintelligible sounds, so that fat ugly rivers rolled down her cheeks, so that her whole face and neck turned bright red from the sheer force of her own single-mindedness.

"Rose, please say something," Lily said with a nervous giggle at the end.

"I've ruined everything…" Rose heard her own voice as if another's mouth had used it. She didn't remember thinking those words. "I need to… I need to speak to Amanda."

She was running before she'd even realised she'd stood up. Her bag was long forgotten about, the book that had been on her knee fallen to the floor without ceremony.

The only truth occupying Rose's mind was one she wished she'd seen months ago.

She'd get over losing Scorpius. It was her friends she really needed.


End file.
